A Journal From the Last Night
by she-never-missed
Summary: "I guess I should be happy, really. Going into the Hunger Games, it's all I've ever wanted... But now that I've been chosen, and it's all so close, there isn't quite the feeling of triumph that I thought there might be... Fourteen hours left." Journal entries from Clove's perspective from the night before the launch, showing her slightly less confident side. ONE-SHOT.


I guess I should be happy, really. Going into the Hunger Games, it's all I've ever wanted, everything I've ever dreamed of. But now that I've been chosen, and it's all so close, there isn't quite the feeling of triumph that I thought there might be. It's the last day before the launch, although I suppose it's more night than day now. The Games start at ten tomorrow. Only fourteen hours left.

To say that I'm nervous would be an overstatement. Me? Nervous about the _Games? _I wouldn't think so. I'm prepared, as we tend to be from District Two. I'm ready. I was _born _ready. And I'm confident. I am. But there's something that's setting me on edge, a small sliver of doubt. My district tells us that we raise Victors. Not just tributes, to die in the slaughter, but champions, who will bring home glory to their families and our district. But of course they didn't mention that at least one of us will always die. No, they never did. And I never thought of it.

But then I saw my competition. Cato, my district partner, and even the tributes from districts one and four. Marvel, who can hit a bull's-eye with a spear from as far as I can throw my knives. The Four kids, who I've seen working with swords and tridents, and even Glimmer, who admittedly doesn't seem to be much of a threat, but who needs to be accounted for all the same. They're all trained too, they've all been told that they'll be the one going home. But only one of us can. And it has to be me. It _has_ to.

And then there's the Girl on Fire. _Katniss Everdeen. _Who I've hated ever since the Capital loved her for her flaming chariot costume. Who is now cherished even more since her district partner claimed his love for her. Who sat around during training just tying knots and building fires. Who somehow scored an eleven from the Gamemakers anyways. _An eleven. _Higher than my own ten, higher than Cato's, higher than everyone's. Katniss Everdeen, who will be joining me in the arena tomorrow. Who I will kill. I will make sure of it.

* * *

Twelve hours left. I should be sleeping. Because even with the alliance, I'm not particularly fond of sleeping in places where people are trying to kill me, which, unfortunately, is what I'm going to be doing after tonight. I can't sleep though, only replay all of the last week's events through. From the reaping, with only a quick goodbye from parents, who were sure I'd be coming back home in a few weeks, to the train ride, making conversation with my team, starting to form the classic District-One-Two-Four alliance. And then there was the tribute parade. The Capitol liked us well enough, not as much as the One's, with their sparkles and shimmer, but that was to be expected. But that only lasted until the Twelve's came along. Because lowly District Twelve had to choose this of all years to upstage us all. Because it _had_ to be this year. _My _year.

But I could look past that, because it was their stylist, not them. They would be just like the others from their district. And the Capitol would see it too, after private training sessions happened and the truth came out that the Girl on Fire wasn't as special as she thought she was. But that didn't happen either. Because Fire Girl apparently knows more than she let on.

And then were our interviews. Mine went well enough, although I've never been one for that kind of thing. No, that's the One's job, sitting and looking pretty for sponsors. In District Two we fight, and everyone'll see that soon enough. We're fighters. And we fight to win.

* * *

Eleven hours. What kind of arena will it be? Will there be water? Weapons? Food? What about the weather? Will it be cold? Hot? A jungle? A desert?

But I need to sleep now. It's the only way.

* * *

Four hours. The sun's just rising, my escort should be here soon. Did I sleep? I can't be sure. I can't shake the feeling of edginess that started last night. I'm prepared, I'm confident, but I can't help but worry. Just a tiny bit.

Well it's time to go, I guess I'll write later.

But then again.

Maybe not.


End file.
